


Becoming a Leader

by Anonymous



Series: Making Home [5]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Astraphobia, Badboyhalo-centric, Creeper Hybrid Sam | Awesamdude, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fantasy Racism, Fear of Abandonment, Hurt/Comfort, Hybrids, Non-Graphic Violence, Panic Attacks, Phil is a God (literally), Platonic Relationships, Respawn Mechanics, Touch-Starved, Trust Issues, cat hybrid antfrost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:42:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28904325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A story told in parts, of how a half-demon put a family together, and holds them together, through whatever hells he can.
Relationships: Lots of platonic ones though, None
Series: Making Home [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2081847
Comments: 14
Kudos: 295
Collections: Anonymous





	Becoming a Leader

**Author's Note:**

> Hey gang! this was meant to be out last week but then I couldn't write the last section for some reason, so you get it now lol. I really hope you enjoy, this is without a doubt the longest singular piece I've ever written and I'm really proud of how it came out.

It was very cold. The half-demon was walking quietly through the forest, doing his best to not catch his feet on roots or sticks or rocks. He felt very small, like this, in the middle of the forest  _ alone.  _ He never liked the cold very much; he wasn’t sure why, but he was warmer than the full humans apparently, so the cold settled into his bones and left him trembling and afraid. 

He heard a branch snap on his left and jerked back hard, turning to look. “H..hello? Is someone there?” He called, softly, shivering a little as he curled his arms tighter around his torso. He missed being around people, since he’d fled his last town a few weeks earlier when they’d taken one look at his horns and skin and eyes and tail and thrown him out again.

He kept walking, moving slowly along. It was getting dark, the sun was setting, and he was shivering even harder, pulling his thin coat around himself even tighter. He finds his way to the edge of a river, glancing around cautiously as he tries to find somewhere to stay for the night. Monsters came out and while he was good with his knives, he didn’t really want to deal with a battle right now.

He climbed a tree, leaning against the trunk. His blanket kept the worst of the chill out but he was still scared and  _ alone.  _ He was fourteen, slowly nearing fifteen, and he didn’t want to be  _ alone  _ in nature waiting for something to come eat him. He dozed like that, using his belt to anchor himself to the tree so he couldn’t accidentally tip off the branch and fall and die.

He woke, unaware of what was waking him up for a moment. He sluggishly looked around, wondering if it had been a nightmare but he felt far too calm for it to be that. He was about to doze off again when a shout filled the air and he stilled because that sounded like a  _ person.  _ He listened for another moment, waiting to see if the sound came again, and a moment later another shout filled the air. “HELP.” The voice yelled, sounding  _ young  _ and frightened.

He fumbled to free himself from the belt, scrambling down the tree, tail lashing behind him. “WHERE ARE YOU.” He shouted, spinning around trying to see the person, when another desperate cry filled the air. He ran, hard and fast, daggers in both his hands. 

He stepped into a clearing. A small figure was on the ground, shaking, and he didn’t even think before he embedded a dagger in the back of each of the zombies with a snarl. They both crumped and he  _ ran  _ across the field, dropping to his knees by the trembling child’s side. 

The boy looks about ten or eleven, trembling like a leaf. “Are you ok? Shh, you’re ok, I won’t let those muffinheads hurt you.” The half-demon declared. The other whimpered, staring up at him with wide, strikingly blue eyes before hurtling into his arms and clinging. “Please don’t let them eat me.” “Of course not you muffinhead! I won’t let them near you” He promises, and he means it. 

He considers climbing a tree again but the other boy looks too scared and tired and  _ cold  _ to do that, and so he doesn’t. Instead, he finds a cave and shoves enough boulders into the opening to block it off before coaxing a fire up. “C’mere, we gotta get warm.” He whispers, and the other boy nods, getting a look at the teen who saved him for the first time. 

Bad flinched, curled smaller, waited for the boy to start screaming but he  _ beamed _ . “Wow! You’re SO COOL looking! I’m Skeppy, it’s nice to meet you!” He blinked, giving a cautious smile back, realizing too late that his fangs would be visible but somehow the boy didn’t seem to care. “I’m Bad.” 

He gives the boy, Skeppy, his spare clothes, and wraps the cuts and scrapes the boy had from trying to run from the zombies. “How did you kill those zombies so easily? Can you teach me how to fight? Can I stay with you?” He pleaded, and Bad nodded easily, huddling closer to the fire. “Of course you ca.” He said, rather sleepily. “I’ll teach you to fight.”  _ And I’ll keep you safe  _ something feral and desperate in his chest whispers.

Bad doesn’t know a lot about what he is. He’s a hybrid, he knows that, and he knows that that means he has certain instincts, but he doesn’t know what that  _ means  _ and if he’s being honest with himself, he hasn’t the faintest clue what’s instinct vs what’s just how people are. Is this desperate need to  _ protect  _ this scrawny, loud-mouthed child instinct? 

He doesn’t care, not really, whether it is or not. It is, it definitely is. It’s the same instinct that, a decade later, will make him look at his friends, hurting and afraid out in a rainstorm, and let them in because to hell with the trade agreements. It’s what wakes him in the middle of the night and sends him to sit near the door watching them, guarding them. It’s the reason there’s an unspoken agreement that if they have a leader, if there’s a person for whom the rest of their instincts whisper  _ alpha,  _ it’s him. 

But on that night, he knows none of that. He just leans against the stone wall of a cave, as Skeppy scooted over and curled up against his chest, sitting silent guard over the younger boy until the sun rose.

2: 

They had been traveling together for three years. Skeppy had gone from a loudmouthed child to a loudmouth teenager, but at least he now could handle himself in the fights that he picked on a  _ far  _ too regular basis when they skirted the edges of civilizations on the server they’d both been born on. They were both eager to set out, to get out of here. Maybe they’d go to one of the bigger servers; learning to fight better would only help them in the future.

But portals costed  _ money  _ if you didn’t already have access, and that was if they could even find someone who was willing to look past Bad’s demonic features, and so they had really not even tried that hard. They’d become close, in those three years; it was exceedingly rare that they were separated from each other for more than a few minutes and whenever they were, mostly because Skeppy got into a fight, Bad had to fight down an overwhelming sense of panic.

They were actually sort of near a town. That was relatively shocking; it had been a long time since they’d stayed near a town for more than three hours. They’d been here for two whole weeks, now, and they’d even gone into town to trade the meat they caught and the plants they gathered for precious coins or other things they needed; both were growing far too fast and while Skeppy could wear Bad’s old clothes, the half-demon was running out of things that didn’t have holes in them to wear.

They finally worked up the nerve to go near the tailor’s. “If they’re mean to you i’ll stab ‘em.” “Skeppy, NO you silly muffinhead, we don’t want to have to run! I mean if they try to hurt me maybe but I’m used to ‘em being rude.” he promises, slowly opening the door. The young woman behind the counter glanced over, and to both teen’s relief didn’t start screaming. 

Two hours later, they both had new coats and Bad had a few new shirts, two pairs of pants, and  _ boots.  _ He was pretty sure that the woman had dramatically undercharged them, but even when he tried to offer more she refused to accept it and so Skeppy eventually said thanks and hauled him out onto the street. 

“We could get some food.” Skeppy blinks, turns to look at him, and he explains further. “We have a little money left, we could get some jerky or something. For when we have to keep moving. It’s going to be winter soon.” Skeppy nods and so they continue down the dirt street towards where they both remember the general store is.

They’re trying to decide between venison jerky and beef jerky when it happens. They’d both noticed the other figure, besides the man behind the counter, in the store; a tall, thin human boy with blond hair and dirty clothes. His most noticeable feature, through, was his deep black eyes, almost the color of the night sky. The teenager, who was clearly a hybrid of around Skeppy’s age, was walking towards the door when the man behind the counter took a step forward, giving a sharp “What do you think you’re doing?” 

The other hybrid halted, eyes widening a little. From where he was, Skeppy had been able to easily see that the teen had shoved a few scraps of jerky into his pocket. He looked  _ thin,  _ afraid in a way that made both Bad and Skeppy a little worried for him. 

“Sir?” Bad stepped out from the aisle, both hands held up but fully aware that with his arms at this angle, the sheathed knives on his belt were visible. “Might I ask what seems to be the problem?” The store owner, or at least the guy working, snarled, and Bad mentally studied him. Human, maybe 30s, pretty fit. He was definitely able to catch them in a run, probably, which would be bad.

“This little freak stole from me! I’ve got you now you little brat.” The boy took a step back, eyes widening a little nervously as the man grabbed him by the collar, and Bad hesitated. His meager pouch of coins had been fought  _ hard  _ for he knew he shouldn’t waste it to help someone he’d never even met and yet.

And yet he stepped forward around the corner, held his head up high, and did his best to make his voice calming. “I would be happy to pay for whatever you believe that my friend here has taken. Please let him go.” The man studied, turning to look at the half-demon; Bad could see greed flashing in his eyes and he relaxed a little because he knew that this would  _ work.  _

“How much will it be, sir? For this too.” He nods at the small container of beef jerky he’s holding and the greedy man tilts his head, tightens his grip on the tall teenager’s shirt collar. “Two gold” Bad grimaced internally; that was damn near all he had but the tall boy looked so scared that he just nodded, taking out the two coins and setting them on the counter.

“If I see you around here again kid, I’ll kick your ass.” The man warns, shoving the teen out the door. Bad grabs Skeppy’s arm and pulls him out the door with him after the boy. The teen stares at him, eyes wide and confused. “What..why did you help me?” His voice was wary but Skeppy rolled his eyes. “He just, does that. He likes helping people. It’s his thing.”

“...oh.” “I’m Bad, this is Skeppy, what’s your name?” The teen hesitated, glanced left and right, and gave a cautious “I’m Dream.” Bad beamed, tail lashing happily. “Nice to meet you, Mister Dream! Are you alright?” “I’m fine.” He tugged the jerky from his pocket, devouring it in a few bites. Bad glanced at Skeppy, a question clear on his face, and as soon as the blue-eyed boy nodded he shoved the container he’d been holding at him.

Dream blinked, looking more than a little confused. “Huh?” “For you! You look hungry and we can get more.” The boy’s eyes widen a little as he looks at him, clearly searching for a trick, before he reached forward and took it. “Thank you!” he breathed. “I...If there’s ever anything I can do for you guys, let me know, yeah?” Bad nods, fully expecting to never call that favor in, grabbing Skeppy’s hand as the head back to the forest before the man decides the deal wasn’t fair enough for his liking. 

3: 

He’s 19 when it happens. It’s been six long years since that tiny village, which he legitimately didn’t remember the name of, in the middle of nowhere. Six  _ long  _ years; he’s grown a bit, so has Skeppy. They’ve both put on muscle, doing their time in the various fighting servers getting experience against  _ people  _ under their belts. 

Skeppy’s gotten louder, if possible, but at least he’s stopped picking fights with everyone who looks at them wrong. They were  _ good;  _ not the best, not close, but  _ good,  _ and so they found their way into a  _ tournament.  _ Well, to say that they found their way in might be wrong. Skeppy had managed to get a bit of a following, more for his exuberant personality than his fighting abilities, but he’d only agreed to compete if Bad was with him and so here they were.

Bad was shifting nervously as he waited for the games to begin. Skeppy and he had watched the week before, because there was nothing better to do now that they were bouncing around public servers unable to find somewhere to settle down. They’d spent some time on smaller PVP servers, but trying to find somewhere that wasn’t awful to Bad was a challenge.

They’d even tried the bigger servers; they’d spent a decent chunk of time on Hypixel, one of the more accepting larger servers, but it was too crowded for either of them to be comfortable and too expensive for them to reasonably be able to  _ live  _ there and so they’d kept moving. 

Now, though, they had to  _ compete  _ and it was pretty nerve wracking. The money would be enough to live on for  _ months  _ if they won, and while their rounds in the fighting pits had given them a little cash, there was a reason sixteen-year-old Skeppy still wore the patched clothes that Bad had outgrown, a reason he hadn’t gotten better knives or a better sword. 

That was why they were excited for this tournament; everyone started with nothing, in all of the games. That meant that they wouldn’t be at a terrifyingly large disadvantage because of their cheap gear, and meant that they had an actual chance. 

There were a  _ lot  _ of people; Bad wasn’t sure how many teams they were competing against, but he was certain it was at least twenty or so. Skeppy, naturally, didn’t look stressed at all, but he’d always done far better around groups of people than Bad had, plus he was the one who’d been  _ invited.  _ Bad couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he was just weighing his friend down;  _ he  _ wasn’t the one who was even supposed to be here. 

The event was actually super fun. This server was  _ strong,  _ and it had a good respawn anchor, so dying wasn’t close to as terrifying as it tended to be on the smaller servers. Bad could still remember the first time he’d died on one of the smaller pit fighting servers; he’d woken up gasping in agony, clinging to Skeppy as hard as the younger man clung to him. Here, coming back was  _ easy,  _ and relatively painless.

Despite his nerves, the games went better than Bad could’ve imagined. He was  _ good  _ at a lot of the games, even the physical things like parkour; he was taller than Skeppy, which helped a lot when he was trying to scramble over barriers and make terrifying leaps. Skeppy’s aggression helped a lot in the fighting games, giving Bad time to make his arrows land with practiced precision even if he was sulking about a lack of throwing knife options. 

They didn’t win, but they got  _ second,  _ which while not nearly as much money would buy them food for the week, and they got an invite to come back the next week which they were both genuinely excited about. “We did so GOOD!” Skeppy cheered eagerly as they walked towards the afterparty. “Plus, now we get free food. And booze.” “You are SIXTEEN.” Skeppy cackled in response, darting ahead and forcing the half-demon to lengthen his stride in order to keep up.

The afterparty was  _ crowded.  _ It wasn’t just the contestants, there were also some of the designers of the different competitions and sponsors and such. Bad spent most of the night trying to convince Skeppy not to drink, and trying to eat as much of the food as he reasonably could without feeling ill because he didn’t know when the last or next time he’d have a full stomach was. 

Most people were still there, and getting progressively more drunk, as the night went on. Bad leaned against the wall, about to suggest that he and Skeppy go find somewhere to sleep for the night when his sensitive demon ears picked up a quiet sound. He blinks, eyes scanning the crowd for what had triggered his  _ someone is in trouble  _ instincts.

His eyes met those of a  _ tall  _ figure. He studied them for a moment; they had rough scales over some of their neck, green, and after a moment he realized that they were  _ probably  _ a creeper hybrid. He’d never met one of those before. After shoving that intrigue aside, he focused on the look of  _ terror  _ on their face and before he realized what he was doing he was moving.

Two people, Bad honestly wasn’t sure if they were competitors or not, were cornering the scarily tall hybrid. “Hey there.” He chirps, not bothering to listen to figure out what was calling the taller man’s fear. “I’m just gonna steal my friend here for a moment. He grabbed his arm and tugged him with him, feeling relief surging in his chest when the hybrid followed. Skeppy shoved drinks into both the obviously inebriated men’s hands to distract them before trotting after his friend.

The creeper hybrid was shaking a little, breathing in harsh, frightened gasps. “It’s ok, you’re ok.” Bad cooed, glancing around once they were out of the room. “Skeppy, do you have the directions to the hotel room?” “Yup!” Bad gave his friend a grateful look, turning to smile calmingly at the new person, who was clearly out of it. “We’re just going to get you somewhere quiet, ok?” He grabs Skeppy’s hand, and the creeper hybrid’s, and follows Skeppy to the small hotel room that they’d been put up in for the night.

The hybrid trembled, arms wrapped tightly around himself, and worry stabbed in Bad’s chest. “Hey, it’s ok, let’s just sit you down.” He soothes, coaxing the shivering hybrid onto the bed. “Do you want a hug?” Large green eyes blinked up at him, giving a desperate nod, and Bad tugged him into his side. It was a little awkward with how  _ tall  _ the new hybrid was, but he curled up small as he could as Skeppy slid over to his other side and they held the crying man tightly. 

It was a long time before the gasping, panicked sobs turned into actual breaths. “Are you ok you muffinhead?” The hybrid made a nervous sound, green eyes meeting Bad’s demonic ones. “M’kay. I’m...sorry. For bothering you two.” “It’s fine you silly muffin.” Bad waved off the apology, giving a fangy smile. “What’s your name? I’m Bad, that’s Skeppy.” The mentioned human waves, a gesture the creeper hybrid shakily reciprocates. “I’m Sam.” 

“You’re still...shaky. Do you want to stay the night? I’m not sure you should be up right now.” The creeper hybrid hesitated, glancing between them, eyes wary. “I don’t want to...intrude.” “You’re not intruding you silly muffinhead! We invited you to stay in our room, it’s ok.” Sam nodded, curling up on the bed. Bad hesitantly flopped down on his other side, reaching over to scritch his long fingers over the creeper’s scales, making a surprised little sound when the hybrid goes limp with a hiss.

“Is...that a good thing or a bad thing?” Sam gave a laugh, shifting to bury his face in a pillow. “ ‘s good. Feels nice. Been on my own for a while.” Bad nods, curling around Skeppy, one arm hooked over his friend’s shoulder, scritching his nails up and down the creeper hybrid’s scales until the three of them are all sound asleep.

Sam never really  _ leaves  _ after that. He goes out, works, the same time they go out and train. Sometimes they leave the tournament world behind for the fighting pits and battle, sometimes they  _ stay  _ because it’s been a long time since either of them has had the right to nice things and neither of them really wants to lose it. 

Sam comes by, with food or a trinket as if he feels like he has to buy their willingness to spend time with him. Bad finally gets tired of that, glaring “menacingly” at the creeper hybrid. It wasn’t scary, not because Bad wasn’t; the half demon definitely could be scary. It wasn’t scary because it was  _ Bad,  _ someone who Sam and Skeppy both knew would never hurt a fly much less them. 

“We’re  _ friends  _ you silly muffinhead! You don’t have to pay us off to make us like you! We like hanging out with you.” Skeppy nodded in agreement from his spot on the bed eating a piece of jerky. Sam gave a careful smile, sitting down nearby, tilting his head curiously at the half-demon in front of him who shifted a little nervously on his heels. “If you wanted to...could you teach us more about hybrids? I’ve never really known any other hybrids and I don’t even...know that much about myself.” 

And so he did. He told them about hybrids, and non-discrimination laws, or the lack thereof. He told them about instincts and packs and  _ families,  _ about his increasingly realistic theory that every hybrid was very touch starved. He talked about trust and safety and the _ awful  _ way most hybrids were treated. And curled up together in a hotel room in a strange tournament world, the teenagers  _ listened.  _

Later, over a year later, after the tournament had long since ended, they found themselves once again without a home beyond Hypixel’s terrifyingly large world. “We could go to a smaller survival server again.” Skeppy sighs, and Sam, too tall and too smart for his own good, blurts out “I heard there’s a new server openin’ up, but apparently it’s pretty hard to get into.”

Skeppy, nineteen now, loud and brash and kind, went asking. And if the admin, who wears a sort of creepy smiley-face mask, seems familiar, he doesn't mention it. If the man keeps his voice a little too gruff, if he is a little too fast to say yes, a little too eager to let them in, well, Skeppy doesn’t mention that when he goes back, beaming, to Bad and Sam to tell them that they had a place they were allowed to  _ stay.  _

  
  


4: 

It had been a while since Bad went to another world alone. Sam and Skeppy were hard at work on the base; Sam had some grand ideas, but those ideas required mining a  _ lot  _ of redstone and making a very large hole in the side of a mountain, neither of which was exactly easy. 

That was what Sam and Skeppy were spending the day doing, hollowing out the side of the mountain inch by inch. Bad had been getting twitchy; it had been a few months since he had gotten to do a proper fight and he was  _ so bored  _ and so he was going to spend a few hours in the pits, fighting. 

He ended up on Hypixel, because it was the safest; he did not want to die, not today, and Hypixel’s respawn anchor was more than good enough to virtually ensure that he wouldn’t manage to die for good. He fought his way through some of their mini tournaments, relaxing as he got back into the swing of fighting with no downside and no real anger behind it. It was familiar.

He was fighting around in the pit, dueling a guy who was pretty good with a sword, when he heard a loud scream. It wasn’t a battle cry; those filled the air constantly in the pit and were really no cause for concern usually. This was a cry of  _ pain,  _ an unusual sound in the pit, where you respawned without injury pretty easily, but one shout of pain wasn’t unheard of if someone accidentally took an extra shot to take down an opponent.

But when the  _ second  _ howl of pain hit the air Bad moved, disengaging from the fight he’d been in. Thankfully, his opponent seemed to understand and decided not to take a strike at the hybrid’s exposed back, and Bad darted in the direction of the sound, wishing he was as tall as Sam was. Being able to see over the crowds would, in this moment, be pretty handy. 

He kept moving, a third scream catching his attention and pulling him firmly in that direction. He  _ ran,  _ dodging around the other people fighting, occasionally having to briskly take down someone who wouldn’t get out of his way fast enough. He rounded the corner into one of the small outcoves where the people trying to practice with bows would often be and snarled at the sight before him.

It was another half-demon, this one a  _ lot  _ taller and bulkier than Bad himself was, holding a scythe. There was a smaller figure on the ground, blood pooling underneath him, crying out in  _ agony.  _ Bad saw red, protectiveness filling his chest at the way the other hybrid, something with fur though he couldn’t tell what under the blood and armor, cried. 

The  _ bleeding  _ was the problem; on this kind of server you were supposed to respawn so easily and so  _ regularly  _ that it was no issue but that weapon was  _ not  _ supposed to be here which meant that it was genuinely hurting the other hybrid which meant that if he respawned at all, there were absolutely no guarantees of it working  _ right.  _

Bad blinked and he was on top of the other half-demon, slamming his swords into his sides with a vicious shout. The other half-demon reared back but Bad didn’t stop, hitting him again and again and again until the figure vanished to respawn. Bad panted, dropping his swords and tugging the trembling furred hybrid into his grip. “Ok, shh, don’t try and get up you muffinhead. You’re really hurt.” There was no real risk of that, apparently; the hybrid was limp in his grip as Bad shoved his way towards the portal, praying Dream would let them  _ both  _ in.

He knew it was a risk, a huge one; Dream was trying to keep the server relatively small of invites for a reason and while Bad was allowed, and he knew the man had invited a few others recently though they’d yet to meet, this bleeding-out man wasn’t and Dream had no way of knowing his condition, knowing Why Bad was trying to bring him through and yet

And yet they landed on the dirt outside of Sam’s house. The figure in his arms was still frighteningly still, but Bad could feel him breathing as he shouted “SAM. DOOR NOW PLEASE” And a moment later the large door slid down. Sam took one look at his friend, who had a sluggishly bleeding wound on his neck and was holding a limp, bloody figure in his arms and  _ ran _ forward, tugging him into his arms and heading inside.

They didn’t have a proper medical room yet, since they hadn’t needed one, but they had a bathroom so that was where they went, Sam shouting for Skeppy to grab any medical equipment that they had. Bad limped behind Sam, not even noticing that he definitely had a few injuries of his own as Sam tugged the smaller hybrid’s shirt off, paling at the wounds there.

“SKEPPY NOW ON THOSE REGENS PLEASE.” He shouted as the smaller man ducked into the room, dumping the medical supplies into Sam’s lap. He opened his mouth, probably to ask who was hurt, before his eyes settled on the definitely bleeding out hybrid and he nodded, taking a step back and letting Sam and Bad work. Skeppy had never been very good with blood, especially other people’s.

Two regen and two potions, which was  _ all  _ of their healing potions, later the hybrid was stable. Taking advantage of him still being completely unconscious, Sam had cleaned and stitched his wounds, before turning his attention to the gash on Bad’s neck. Beside that, the half-demon was relatively uninjured, save for a twisted knee from when he’d tripped.

Skeppy and Sam listened quietly as Bad explained the events that had led to...this, Bad curled up against Skeppy while Sam stitched the wound on his neck since they were out of regens. It was a nasty gash, curving down his shoulder blade, but he never made a sound as the creeper hybrid did his work. “I’m surprised Dream let him in.” Sam commented quietly, and Bad hummed in agreement. “I didn’t think he would.” The  _ I thought he was going to die there  _ didn’t need to be said; Skeppy tightened his grip on his friend, eyes widening slightly in worry. 

They slept there, curled up together waiting for the cat hybrid to wake. Sam was twitchy and nervous, creeper instincts not enjoying this but far too stubborn to move. It was around four when the cat hybrid finally stirred, and somehow Bad was the only person to wake. “Shh.” He whispered, slowly reaching out to scritch his fingers through the fur, which they’d done their best to clean of blood. 

“Deep breaths, you’re  _ safe _ I promise _. _ ” he promises, threads his fingers through the damp fur, soothing the trembling hybrid back into sleep. “We’ve gotcha. Nobody can hurt you here.” Bad promises softly, leaning his head against the bed so he can keep petting the other hybrid as they both doze off again.

  
  
  
  


5: 

Bad was glad the war was over. It was nice to be able to hang out with all of his friends whenever he wanted, without care for what the current political state with the different groups was. Sam was still hesitant to open his base to too many people at a time if it wasn’t an emergency, and Bad would never dream of being annoyed at what the other hybrid had to do to feel safe, so if he and Skeppy wanted to socialize they tended to end up in L’Manburg. 

Today, they were hanging out with Ranboo, part of the group’s effort to get the younger hybrid more used to being around other hybrids. It was a goal that Ranboo himself enthusiastically endorsed, and a goal that they were trying to replicate with Wilbur with somewhat more promising results.

To be fair, that had something to do with how  _ desperate  _ the wolf hybrid was for affection. As soon as anyone showed any willingness to be near him he was forever skirting near them, not wanting them to get tired of him but so  _ desperate  _ for someone to care that it was painful. Bad had been making sure all of them spent a lot of time with Wilbur, and he and Techno had been bonding which was nice. 

But today, Skeppy and Bad were teaching Ranboo how to cook. Well...to say that they were both doing that would be absurd. Bad was teaching Ranboo, and frankly also Skeppy if he’d listen  _ ever,  _ while Skeppy fucked around and tried to make it really hard to actually teach. 

Currently he was sitting behind Bad, talking about...something. Bad was honestly only half listening, but he thought it was something about a prank he was planning to play on Tommy. “Skeppy, please don’t make Tommy too upset, if he does something to the bunker Sam won’t sleep for a week.” “I won’t go too far!” Skeppy promises, though it’s not a promise that Bad is all that sure that he believes but Skeppy would never  _ purposefully  _ hurt Sam and he knows it. 

They are, of course, making muffins, but they’re also making pasta. Skeppy is banned from going near stoves, after somehow almost burning the base down heating up  _ water,  _ so he just chills and mopes behind them as Bad and Ranboo cook, threatening to start stabbing things if no one entertained him. Bad rolled his eyes at his best friend’s antics, but there was a fond smile on his face as he wandered over, wrapping an arm around his side and leaning against him. 

The food was  _ good,  _ which wasn’t that surprising because Bad was a pretty good cook and Ranboo had honestly been trying  _ so  _ hard. They were chilling on the couch, Skeppy leaning on Bad’s knees and Ranboo sort of awkwardly sprawled against their sides humming happily to himself, making quiet little enderman noises. Bad dug deep into his bag of instincts in response, giving a rough,  _ infernal  _ grumble in response, which Ranboo gave another happy enderman noise in response to.

They were getting ready to leave when the storm started. Bad grimaced as he poked his head out of the door. “C’mon Skeppy, I wanna leave before the thunder and lightning get too bad or Sam is gonna have a heart attack.” “Hmm?” “ _...Sam.  _ Our best friend. Who hates lightning storms cause...creepers don’t like it? I’m not sure.” 

Skeppy rolls his eyes as he pulls his coat on. “I know who  _ Sam  _ is you fucker.” “LANGUAGE, Skeppy!” Bad sighed, turning to thank Ranboo for having them over when he saw the way the teen was standing. He stood very still, eyes on the ground, arms wrapped  _ tightly  _ around himself. Stress was written into the boy’s face, and as Bad watched lightning lit up the sky, thunder following a moment later, and the teen flinched  _ hard.  _

“Ranboo?” Skeppy questioned, taking a step in the teen’s direction, but Bad stopped him with a quiet shake of his head; the teen didn’t usually like to be crowded if he was upset, and he definitely looked upset. “Ranboo, you ok?” “Yessir!” The tall teen nods, shifting on his heels, but another crack of thunder makes it clear how much of a lie that is; the boy flinches back, whimpering softly. 

“Hey, C’mere kid.” Skeppy soothed, taking a step forward, eyes wide and concerned. Bad was already fumbling with his communicator; there was no way he was making Ranboo go out in the rain. “Skeppy?” “Yeah?” “Is there  _ any  _ chance you did a stasis pearl before we left?” Skeppy blinks, clearly trying to remember before shaking his head, giving a sad sigh. “Sorry Bad.” “It’s ok.” He sighs, glancing back at his communicator.

Ranboo can’t go outside but Sam is not gonna want to be alone and Bad doesn’t want to  _ choose,  _ can’t choose. He sighs, fumbling with his communicator and sending Sam a message. 

Bad: You still have a stasis pearl in L’Manburg?   
  
Creeper Boi: Yes

Bad: Set up one on that end and use it. Ant can pull us all back. We’re at Ranboo’s.

There was no response for Several minutes, and Bad grimaced as he sent another message.

Bad: Please, Sam, Ranboo needs to be somewhere safe and we want to be with you I  _ promise  _ you muffinhead. 

A knock sounds and he floods with  _ relief.  _ He pulls the door open, catching Sam as the creeper hybrid basically falls into his arms, shaking and babbling something about thunderstorms. “Shh, shh, you did so good.” He soothes as best he can, tucks the tall man’s head into the crook of his neck and holds him tightly. 

Skeppy is smart enough to grab onto Sam, too, tugging Ranboo with him, as Bad sends a message to Ant. A moment later, they’re all tumbling out into the base, Bad immediately going into what the others, behind his back only, call his “protective alpha mode.”

“Ant, can you grab some blankets?” He questions, pulling Sam up with him. The tall hybrid was heavy but Bad was getting far too good at this and easily got himself and Sam to the couch, turning to give Ranboo a reassuring smile as the thunder rattled again. 

Ranboo crept closer, huddling against Bad’s free side. “It’s just a storm” The half-demon promised, giving Ant a grateful look as the cat hybrid tucked a blanket around everyone, before basically flopping into Bad’s lap. Bad murmured soothingly as Sam trembled in his grip, glancing over at Ranboo. “You ok kiddo?” “Mm hmm.” The hybrid gave a small, unconvincing smile. 

“It’s just very loud and it means rain and I don’t like rain rain hurts me and thunder just kind of reminds me of that. I don’t like it.” Ranboo glances at Sam, a question on his face, and Skeppy quietly reassures him. “He’ll be fine, kid. Lightning just fucks him up. He doesn’t...attract electricity any more than we do but creepers do so it freaks out at the idea of it.”

Ant purrs, slumping down so he’s draped over all three of their laps and can poke at Skeppy as much as he wants to. The storm goes on for a  _ long  _ time; Ranboo falls asleep at some point, curled up on the couch under a blanket, and after a  _ lot  _ of coaxing, Sam curled up on the other side and finally dozed off as the worst of the storm passed.

Bad relaxed a little, nudging Ant off of him; the smaller hybrid flopped onto a sound-asleep Skeppy with a huff. Bad stood, slowly, slipping into the kitchen to make some food for the others for when they woke up, glancing in occasionally to see his family sound asleep, curled up together, safe and sound.

+1 

It was rare that Bad truly struggled with his hybrid instincts. He knew that was somewhat unusual; after all, he’d spent a great deal of time soothing Sam during lightning storms and when cats hissed at him or tugging Techno away from gold or when Ant would chase rabbits for some reason.

Bad, on the other hand, rarely had hybrid instincts beyond his overwhelming protectiveness of the others. That was a  _ helpful  _ instinct, most of the time, even if it meant that he got overprotective when one of the others was hurt. That was an instinct that had kept him and Skeppy alive for  _ years,  _ one that still kept him and Skeppy and Ant and Sam and Techno and Ranboo and everyone else who he considered his family, which was a lot of people, safe. 

This was supposed to be a pretty chill day. He’d gone mining with Phil, because Sam needed “literally as much redstone as you can find and as exists please” and so to the mines they went. They had been chatting as they worked; mining was tiring, and dull, so joking around with someone was really the only way to not give up in the first eighteen seconds. 

It was a  _ stupid  _ mistake from Bad. He’d mined for years, he knew he should know better than to dislodge a large rock from the ceiling and then move forward without making sure the ceiling was still stable and yet he just...wasn’t paying attention and as he stepped forward, he  _ felt  _ the roof crumble and the lava hit his legs and.

And an overwhelming wave of  _ power  _ washed over him. He forced his eyes open, wide eyes flicking up to stare at the winged man standing over him. He only had a moment to identify the burning pain in his legs, and the fact that the lava was gone and the heavy rocks were shoved against the back wall, before he was overtaken with overwhelming  _ panic. _

He couldn’t breathe. The sheer  _ power,  _ strong in a way that made the infernal part of him start screaming and he couldn’t breathe and  _ he was going to die they were going to kill him because of what he was because he was a monster because he was bad bad bad and the sheer power overwhelmed his lungs and he couldn’t hope to fight against it. _

Phil stumbled, fell to his knees, shaking. It had been a very long time since he’d used anything close to that level of power, especially here, somewhere that he had absolutely no right to have any power especially with no ability to connect to the end. He was fading towards unconsciousness  _ fast  _ as he fumbled with his communicator to send out an emergency ping.

His glazed eyes flickered back towards Bad and he grimaced; the hybrid was shaking, clearly  _ very  _ out of it, with nasty lava burns to both legs and tears running silently down his face. He was babbling, something about burning and  _ falling  _ and Phil paled when he realized what he’d done. 

That much power would shake anyone but for someone who was part infernal...he could probably  _ feel  _ the divine energy and divine didn’t...bode well for infernal usually. He tried to move, to help, but his limbs felt like lead and he slumped against the wall, hoping against hopes that he’d actually managed to get the message out.

Bad slowly became aware of hands on his arms, pulling his clawed hands away from himself, voices speaking, but he couldn’t hope to make out the words or who was speaking. He thrashed harder with the realization that he was being restrained in some way, keening desperately. 

Sam pinned him back against the wall, trying not to feel like a horrible person when Bad kenned and howled. “Calm down, calm down, we’ve got you,” he soothes, grimacing at the blood running down the half-demon’s arms from where his claws had dug in. “You’re ok. You’re  _ safe  _ Bad, breathe for me, you’re  _ safe.”  _

That was about as successful as tossing a glass of water on a forest fire. Bad screamed, cries of terror and pain increasing a little, and Sam cursed, using his taller form to pin him as best he could. “Ant I know how you feel about dosing people with potions with the sole purpose of getting them down but like..” “Yeah, no, coming.” He slid under Sam’s arm, coaxing a healing potion laced with a heavy dose of sleeping potion into the thrashing man, who slowly went limp.

“There we go.” Sam loosened his grip, tugging Bad into his arms with a worried sound. “We need to get him out of here.” He glanced back at where Dream, Fundy, and Eret were trying to help Phil. “Fundy, report?” “He’s stable, ish, I don’t see any injuries but he’s completely out...so maybe a concussion? Or shock?” Sam nods, cradling Bad’s warm body in his arms. “You guys get him, we’ve gotta get them back.

There was at least...something they could do for Bad. Techno and Fundy methodically cleaned his wounds, using the burn cream that George and Ant made and bandaging his legs. “I...he might have some fractures, but I’m not sure it matters he’s not moving for at least a week until those burns heal.” Fundy decides, and Sam nods, sitting down on the edge of the bed. 

Ant was pressed against his back, using a damn cloth to clean the dirt and grime from his skin, needing to be useful and the cat part of his brain  _ refused  _ to let someone be dirty in front of him. Wilbur and Tommy were flanking Phil, who was still out, grooming his dust-filled feathers. 

They all slept in that room that night. Sam and Skeppy flanked the door, shields against their legs and swords at their side. Dream rolled his eyes slightly at the idea that Sam’s base  _ could  _ be invaded but he understood that it was a lot of instincts driving them to protect the pack so he wouldn’t call them out on it. 

Phil woke slowly.  _ Everything  _ ached, in a way that he hadn’t felt in a long time, a slow throbbing pain in his chest that he hadn’t felt in months.  _ Shit, what did I do who saw how fast do I have to get out of here  _ was his first thought, followed by  _ who is making that sound _ .

He looked up, slowly, dark eyes meeting Bad’s glowing ones. The half-demon was curled up on his side, bandaged wrapped carefully around both of his legs. He shrank back against the wall as Phil moved, taking shaky steps to crouch down in front of the shivering hybrid.

Bad trembled, eyes glazed with confusion and fear. He at least had sort of a handle on his instincts, today, but they still felt closer to the surface than the day before and left him trembling, fragile and aching and  _ scared.  _ He wanted nothing more than to curl up in the middle of his pack and never let go of them but he couldn’t because  _ he  _ was meant to be the protector.

Phil knelt, ignoring the aching pains, looking the young hybrid straight in the eyes. Like this, he looks far younger than the twenty-four year old that he is, shrinking away from him slightly. “I’m sorry.” Phil’s voice is rough but he sees Bad’s eyes widen slightly in surprise. “I...I should’ve realized how it would feel for you I was just trying to keep the lava or the rockfall from killing you. I...I can’t...y’know.”

And he does know, but hearing the other man  _ say  _ it calms some of the wild fear his hybrid side is projecting at the moment. “It hurt.” He doesn’t mean to sound as pitiful as he does, and Phil softens; the half-demon can see the concern written onto his face. “I know.” 

“I won’t tell them.” Bad whispers, hoarse and aching but certain. “You know that, right? Your secrets are your secrets. I won’t tell” He glances around the room, seemingly realizing that it wasn’t just his people here. “Any of them.” Phil nods, sighing, leaning back against the wall.

And, under the moonlight that filters in through the windows Ant and Skeppy had convinced Sam to put in the medical area, surrounded by the sleeping forms of their families, a tired god offers his hand, and his trust, to the kindest half-demon he’s ever met and

and he takes it. 


End file.
